


back door knockin'

by ficfucker



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23288116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: hay rustlin' often leads to toe-curlin'
Relationships: Daryl/Wayne (Letterkenny)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 174





	back door knockin'

“Full stop there, bud. I ain’t gonna be the one gettin’ toe curled like a sally.” 

To punctuate his point, Wayne brings the ax down and the log in front of him splits pert near perfect in two.

Darry moves the halves aside and sets up another block of wood. “It don’t make you a sally.”

“Fine then. A backdoor carpet muncher.” 

Daryl rolls his eyes and sets back down on his stump, watching Wayne, waiting to be useful. “I think we’re both more than 80% percent on that front, Big Shoots.” 

“Yes, well, gettin’ yer horn greased by a man is a field difference than havin’ a rod shoved up in you, fuck. Figgure it oot.” 

Darry spits off to the side. “I think the logic there is a tad flawed.”

Wayne doesn’t respond. It takes three whacks for the log to be broken and it doesn’t go neatly this time. 

Daryl sets up the next. Returns to his stump. “Sides, I’m randy as a coon hound in heat an’ yer missin’ an opportunity to get on with yer sweetie.”

“My sweetie,” Wayne says with a grunt, his shoulders clearly getting tired from heaving, “is offerin’ goods I’m not lookin’ to buy. Go out to the barn an’ empty yer bottle if yer so fixin’.”

“Well, why don’t you come along with me?” Darry offers with a kiddish grin.

“Cuz chorin’ comes before hay rustlin’ an’ sides that, my pecker’s gone full into hidin’ from yer previous suggestion.” 

Daryl accepts defeat and throws his hands up innocently, in surrender. “Fine then. We ain’t gotta do it that way.”

“Thank you.”

The wood chopping continues in relative silence, save for the warm wind rustling the tall grass behind them and the thunking of Wayne’s ax being driven through logs. He’s sweating good. He’s thinking about how nice a cold beer will be once he goes in. 

Daryl’s thinking about what faces Wayne would make if he had him underneath him.

Wayne, satisfied with the wood he’s split, or maybe distracted, sets his ax down head first and props his elbow to the butt and turns to look at Daryl. “What makes you go an’ figgure I’m the one who gets screwed like a sally anywho?”

Darry snorts. “‘Cuz I’m the one always initiatin’ an’ you follow along like a runt pup.” 

Wayne doesn’t respond to that. Instead he says, “Well, you could be the one receivin’.”

Daryl shrugs, but doesn’t seem interested. “I wasn’t tryna say somethin’ ‘bout yer character, Wayne. Jus’... wanted to make love to ya, is all.” 

“Real thoughtful, darlin’.”

“An’ I noticed how much better you are with yer 'yes-yes-yes' -in’ than me,” Darry teases with a lopsided smirk.

“Oh, get off it.”

“I’m tryna be sweet on my sweetie.”

“Hang that one out to dry.” 

* * *

Wayne does some researching on his own time. 

There’s been plenty of talk around the property between the guys about anal sex and just about every time, Wayne wants to die of embarrassment. It ain’t proper to talk about and now Darry’s brought it into his life again. A million times more personal.

A man should know when there's been too much butt talk. 

The act itself seems silly and most likely painful and Wayne’s never thought of himself in that manner: taking it.

Daryl’s right though: Wayne’s certainly the more submissive of the pair when it comes to sexuality. 

Wayne’ll be damned if Darry ever tries to give him orders on the job, but soon as they’re alone and hands on, he lets his sweetie take the reigns. 

Prior to this, they haven’t discussed much the dynamic. They both enjoy it and it allows Wayne to back down from being the one forever in power for once, which is a relieving change of pace. 

So far though, in their short journey of being sweeties, the man-on-man action has only been rubbin' and suckin' and the like. 

Nothing penetrative. 

Wayne always pumps the brakes when he feels Daryl's going too fast for him. Daryl is patient and hangs back until his sweetie feels it's okay to continue. 

Even in embarrassment, the suggestion Daryl’s made doesn’t leave him, evident by the fact that he’s turned to the internet to seek advice. 

Wayne spends near half the night looking through adult sites and feeling as foolish as a three legged alley cat stuck in a trash can. 

* * *

They're stacking wood the day after when Daryl decides to get cheeky, and standing up after finishing his row, asks, "I got a Would You Rather for you boys." 

"Well, lays it on us," Dan answers. 

Wayne gives Darry a long, sideways glance through his squinted eyes and keeps stacking his wood. 

"When it comes to back door knockin' would you rather be the one enterin' or the one gettin' knocked on?" 

Daryl has a grin on his face big as a Texas sunset and Dan, blissfully unaware, pauses to consider the question. 

"You means the anal sex?" 

"This is inappropriate," Wayne mumbles. The inside of his work gloves are starting to feel clammy. 

"Anal sex," Daryl confirms. 

They're in a line with Wayne in the middle so Daryl has to talk over Wayne's hunched back when he's bent down to pick up logs. 

It somehow makes the entire situation that much more embarrassing. 

"I guess the one enterin' cuz I hears it hurts a little." 

Darry hums his consideration and spits off to the side, shoving his mitted hands into the pockets of his dirty coveralls. "Well, suppose you got time to… you know, prepare for it." 

"So it don't hurts?" 

"So it don't hurt." 

Wayne smacks down another log. He's the only one working now. "This is fuckin' impolite." 

"It's not like we're kissin' and tellin'," Dan points out. 

Wayne stands upright and looks at Dan, his face stern and blank as a bull about to snort. "A man should know when there's been too much butt talk. And this is too much butt talk." 

Daryl smiles his giddy schoolboy smile and says, "Oh, scoot back, Big Shoots, there ain't no ladies around to hear." 

Wayne makes a low, annoyed grumble and goes back to his work. 

"Well, if I gots time to prepare, I suppose get knocked on," Dan says, simple as a shrug. 

Darry seems more amused than ever. He asks, "Really? You changed yer mind right quick." 

"I gone an'... got my prostate stimulated by that gal I was seein' an' I told yous it feels… natural." 

"You two sound like fuckin' uptown degens with all this dirt road talk," Wayne says, yanking off his sweaty gloves and setting them atop his row of neatly stacked logs. 

He goes into the house to get a beer and hopefully cool off from the awful, unwanted blush creeping up his face like bittersweet vines. 

* * *

  
  


Once Dan's gone home, Wayne finds himself in the hay barn with Darry pressed up to his front. 

"You know, I'm sorry 'bout that Would You Rather today while chorin'." 

"Mm." 

"Oh, come off it, Wayne." Daryl presses his lips chastely to Wayne's neck, sliding his hands into the back pockets of Wayne's jeans to give him a playful squeeze. "Sometimes I forget how  _ sensitive _ my sweetie is." 

Wayne slides his hands down to Daryl's coveralled hips, looking like a young couple about to dance for the first time with how stiff his elbows are. "I ain't sensitive, I just don't like talkin' about bum stuff when I'm chorin'." 

"Squirrelly Dan don't know I was talkin' about us." 

"Oh, so you was talkin' about us?" 

Darry puffs out of his mouth and that makes the hairs on the back of Wayne's neck stand up at attention. "You know what I meant. I wasn't goin' an' hollerin' how I wanna bend ya over an' screw ya till Tuesday." 

Wayne's face flares with blush and he's thankful that Daryl's busy kissing down his neck so he can't see how red he's gone in the cheeks. His prick swells with shameful interest at the blunt hypothetical Daryl's gone and put in his head. 

"Gee, that one sure buttoned you up, didn't it?" Daryl teases. 

"No marks above the collar," Wayne replies, unsticking Darry from his throat. 

Darry kisses him softly on the mouth, and hushed, asks, "Well, we gonna hay rustle or what then? It ain't long till sundown." 

"What's so special about sundown?" Wayne unzips the long metal track that allows Darry to peel out of his dirty monkey suit and he pushes them down a bit further so Darry's boxers are visible. 

"Figured Katy'd come lookin' if you stay out past dark is all." 

Darry undoes Wayne's fly and zipper, no belt in the way because he buys pants that fit, and he dips his hand into Wayne's white briefs. 

Wayne makes a low noise, gutted almost, and he reaches out to reciprocate the touch, cupping Darry through his boxers. He'd be lying if he said that Would You Rather hadn't gotten him a shade excited, drinking his beer alone on the porch. Curiosity can get the best of a man easily. 

It's funny how quick Wayne's gone from "full stop there, bud, pump the brakes, hard no" to this simmering curiosity that's edging onto the grounds of desire. 

Darry brings him back to the now by giving Wayne a long, slow tug on his hot, slick pecker, devilish enough that he drops his head back to the bale of barley behind him. 

"Forgivin' yet?" Darry giggles. 

"Nup, but ya can certainly keep tryin' at." 

  
  


Darry heads on home after they've gone and washed up, and if Katy gives them a look when they come into the kitchen, a bit disheveled, Wayne's top button not quite threaded, Darry's curly hair matted to one side, Wayne doesn't know because he avoids her eyes. 

Wayne says a quick goodnight to Katy once Darry's out the door and safely down the lane way. He goes up to his room, gets into bed, and despite Daryl putting his mouth to good use rather than gettin' him in trouble, Wayne's still keyed up. 

He goes about his "researching" again. 

Wayne can't deny that there's something criminally alluring to the idea of allowing Daryl that much control. 

Awkward, super soft, rosy cheeked Daryl… 

Wayne feels like a teenager first discovering skin mags. 

* * *

The whole next day, Wayne's got a surplus of energy, which is weird, how he feels like a live wire. Darry must be able to read into this because he keeps grinning over at Wayne as wide as a flatbed trailer, eyes scrunched up. 

Dan stays blissfully unaware of any sexual tension and maintains a cheerful banter while they chore. 

When Wayne goes in to fix himself lunch, Darry toes up on him in the kitchen and hugs him from behind. 

"Jesus Christ, Dar. Fit to scare a man three feet vertical." 

With his face pressed into Wayne's back, arms around his stomach, he holds up a clenched fistful of wild flowers. The little purple ones that grow out around the barn despite no one ever tending them.

"Wanted to give my sweetie some flowers an' figgured you'd go an' get bashful if I did it 'round Dan." 

Wayne's blushing again. He wishes Daryl would stop getting him to do that. "Yer fuckin' ten ply, bud," he mutters. Despite it, he gently takes the flowers from Darry and reaches into the nearest cupboard, gets a glass to set them in. 

"You signed up fer all this." 

"Unfortunate." Wayne wishes Daryl would let go of him because the way he's draped himself over Wayne, all dead weight, heavy jacket hanging, has got Wayne's prick at attention. 

Wayne turns around and gives Darry a proper hug and a kiss on the top of the head and says, "Alright, it's still chorin' time. Ain't fair leavin' Dan all to his lonesome." 

"Course," Darry says, peach syrup sweet. And with that, he gives Wayne a full front body press, boarding on a rub, a grind, smiling that sunshine smile, and heads right out the door. 

* * *

  
  


"So." 

"So?" 

Wayne clears his throat. "I wents about my own researchin'." 

Daryl plays happily dumb and rests his chin on his knuckles, a small smile on his face. "Pitter patter," Darry says, amused. 

Wayne squints the opposite way, so he's looking into the kitchen. "Well. It ain't polite to be goin' an' yammerin' about, but I'm sure you can figgure oot what exactly it is I'm meanin'." 

"Get after it, Wayne. No one's 'round tonight, so if you've got somethin' impolite to say, I'm the only one to hear it." 

It's one of the only times they've had the house all to their own since becoming an official pair of lovebirds. Katy's gone off with those two cock jockey hockey dinks and Dan's been gone home for hours now. 

"Well." Wayne stands and slaps his palms down to the table. "Ought to be headed to bed then." 

That's an invitation if Daryl's ever heard one. 

He's got an idea where this is going considering Wayne's gone red as a rooster's waddle, so he follows him up the stairs to the bedroom without a word of complaint. 

Wayne undoes his rust and white plaid shirt and puts it in his wicker hamper, then goes for his jeans, all terribly unceremonious. 

Darry comes up behind him and rests his cheek to Wayne's smooth, tight shoulder blade, arms going around him. 

"Oh," Wayne chirps. "Well, hello there." 

"Howdy yerself, cowboy." 

"Too keen on those from behind hugs." 

"Sneak up on ya, yer less likely to shake me off." 

Wayne turns around so they're chest to chest and Darry rests his head to where Wayne's heart beats under the warm skin. Wayne's hand cups the back of Daryl's head and toys absently with his curls a moment. 

"Feels a bit unfair," Wayne whispers. "Seein' how I'm one stitch close to bein' naked as a jay bird an' you ain't hardly started." 

Daryl smiles hard enough his eyes crinkle shut, tight as seed pods, and he steps back to pull off his shirt. 

It's funny, how Wayne's stomach drops and warms and tightens now when Darry does that, grabs the back of his white shirt and hikes it over his shoulders and drops it to the floor. He's seen it a million times before: during a hot work day, stripping down for a dip in the lake, but now Wayne knows it's for him and it excites him in a way he considers infantile. 

He glances away and unzips his jeans, puts those into the hamper, too. Wayne's half hard in his underwear and another wave of giddy, sexual embarrassment washes over him, how he's so keyed up just from having Daryl an inch from him. 

And there's the matter of anatomy, too. Wayne's never had a partner with the same machinery as him and he can't help but compare size 

and arousal. 

They're still inexperienced with each other, but Daryl's proven much less bashful about the whole deal. 

Darry, now stripped to his boxers, returns his attention to Wayne, who's a bit in his head. Darry puts his hand to Wayne's broad chest and coaxes him to set on the edge of his bed. 

When he's seated, Daryl leans down and kisses him oh so sweetly, a hand coming up to cup the hard line of his jaw. Wayne hums into it, the shame and tension simmering from his body at the tenderness. 

"Think I gone an' figgured it out some," Dayne whispers, smiling against Wayne's lip. 

"Don't go an' ruin a moment, Dar." 

Darry pushes himself over top of Wayne and Wayne eases slowly back onto the bed until Daryl's straddling him fully and his chest is pert near heaving like a panting horse. 

"You look like you're fixin' to run clear from the house," Darry says in a hush. He places his hands over Wayne's exposed chest and moves his palms down to his flat stomach, stroking him. 

"Lotta pressure on a stud to perform." 

Darry smiles softly and leans down to kiss Wayne full on the mouth in an attempt to ease him. "Ain't no performance, darlin'. Jus'me here. No judges or winnin' ribbons." 

Wayne squints away, looking over at the window, and says, quietly, "You can take my drawers off." 

Darry doesn't need to be told twice. He scoots back and Wayne draws his legs up so Darry can slide off his underwear. Wayne's erection lies heavily in the line where his leg connects to his hip. His fingers twitch, wanting to cover it. 

"You go an' get this shy on gals in the past?" 

Wayne frowns. "Ain't proper to talk about how you act in the sack with prior partners, Dar." 

Darry peels off his own boxers, drops them over the side of the bed. "Well, it's… cute. Like how pink you go an' get when I'm lookin' at ya." 

Wayne goes pinker, can feel it warming his face, his chest. Girls have never looked at him with a gaze quite like Darry does. Both giddy and sincere. Darry's definitely his giggliest partner, smiling as often as he's moaning. 

Darry gets up so he's sitting on Wayne's thighs and dips down, giving Wayne a reassuring kiss. 

"You needa shave," is what Wayne says when Darry sits back up. 

"Thought you said I can't grow a beard." 

Wayne moves a hand up, touches the bone of hip that's visible on Daryl's side below the thin, soft layer of pale body fat. "Well, I ain't sayin' some whiskers is a beard." 

Darry pulls a playful face. "You ain't in no place to be talkin' that way to me, darlin'," he teases. 

Wayne opens his mouth to argue something when Darry sweeps his hand down and curls his calloused fingers around Wayne's swollen manhood and gives him a good tug that makes the air go out of him. Full stop. He makes a huffing noise and turns his face away. 

"Told ya." Darry drops a wad of hot spit into his cupped palm then resumes his stroking, his own pecker standing at attention some inches away. He turns his wrist fiercely. 

Wayne grunts. His face is full flushed now, red as a summer strawberry. 

Darry changes the position so he's lying atop Wayne, their kickstands kissing all pressed together how they are, and he kisses Wayne's neck. "Good down there, Big Shoots?" 

"10-4."

"You got some grease fer me?" 

Wayne reaches over to the nightstand, produces a small plastic tub of Vaseline. He uncaps the blue top and Darry dips two fingers in, shoveling out a decent sized dollop. Wayne puts the Vaseline aside. 

"Now, I'm not tryna surprise you with this one." 

"Go on an' do it, Dar." Wayne's cock is weeping a puddle onto his lower stomach, and despite his embarrassment, he wants Darry worse than he's ever wanted him before. 

Darry flops onto his side, and Wayne follows suit, so they're lying face to face, and Darry, with his non-Vaselined hand, cups Wayne under his right thigh and hefts it up. With his other, he reaches down below Wayne's balls, barely brushing them, and smears the Vaseline over Wayne's pucker in earnest. 

Wayne inhales. 

"Yer alright," Daryl breathes. 

Wayne swallows, whispers, "Get on with it." 

Darry presses his trigger finger into Wayne, slow, slow as he can, and Wayne's body accepts it with medium resistance. Wayne tenses, but reminds himself he's supposed to be staying loose, and exhales. He's only tried it once himself in the past few days and it feels about the same, foreign object breeching with little pleasure. 

Darry coils his finger into a hook, a coaxing motion, and Wayne grunts. 

To avoid keeping too much attention on where Darry's sticking his fingers, he rocks his hips forward so his prick slides wetly against Wayne's, and Wayne meets the motion with a sigh, rutting towards him, too. 

Darry adds a second finger and Wayne keeps himself quiet as a church mouse, not exactly bored but surely not nuts for it. His erection isn't flagging, though, so Darry must be doing something right, he figures. 

"Slow as cold molasses," Wayne complains. 

"I ain't fixin' to hurt ya." 

"Fuckin' ten-ply, darlin'."

Darry rolls his eyes and is saying, "Fine, you go on an' tell the doctor how you got an anal fissure 'cause you were too impatient waitin' to get toe-curled," when he brushes up on Wayne's hot button and a sound Darry's never heard before punches out of his partner. 

"Christ runnin' downhill," Wayne pants, stunned and embarrassed. 

Daryl giggles, full on giggles, and twists his fingers again, whispering, "Found the milk-maker." 

Wayne slaps a hand over his own mouth to smother a moan and from behind his palm, croaks, "Say that again an' I'm gonna come talk to ya." 

Darry slips his fingers out, which actually gets Wayne to whine like a disappointed pup, and he sits up, reaching over to get another scoop of slick to palm over his rod. He grabs Wayne by the leg and rolls him over onto his back and pushes his legs up so they're up over his shoulders. 

"Go easy on ya," Darry whispers, holding his cock with one hand and dragging it over Wayne, from his balls to his ass in a slick, warm drag 

that makes Wayne squirm. 

"That's fuckin' improper," Wayne grumbles. It makes him feel dirty, all that Vaseline spreading down over him hotly, making a mess of his bits. 

Darry tilts down to give Wayne a soothing kiss and it strains the muscles in Wayne's thighs like how it feels when he's squatting down to buck a hay bale. Upright again, on his knees, Darry presses his cockhead to Wayne's ass and pushes in slow. 

Wayne turns his chin away and tries his best to keep from clamping down hard as a vice on Darry's prick. It drags in with a slight burn. He feels incredibly full and that's a new and dirty thing to go along with the greasy film over his nuts. 

"Fuck," Darry breathes when he's full in. 

Wayne's still turned away, eyes clenched. 

Darry runs a hand along Wayne's calf, turns his head to kiss his leg, a soft gesture. "How ya feelin', sweetie?" 

"Impolite to talk aboot," he mumbles. 

Darry braces his hands to Wayne's hips and gives a thrust, then another, and the way Wayne's body moves under him is almost better than the velvet warmth around him. 

Wayne gasps and scrambles his hands to the sheets, clutching tight enough his knuckles go white. "Dar," he groans. 

Darry's really starting to plow into him now and he gets out, "C'mon, Wayne, look up at me." 

It takes a minute. A minute of Darry fucking into Wayne, for him to turn his head and peek his squinted eyes open to see Darry, just as flustered and disheleved as him looking back. 

Wayne makes a kind of "guh" sound. 

Darry manages a quivering smile and leans down over Wayne to kiss him, all sloppy mouth and nipping teeth. He bucks into Wayne particularly rough, makes him moan against his searching tongue. 

"Christ, Wayne, feel so good," Darry grunts. 

Wayne makes a low noise and Darry hits home, meets the mark, and he tosses his head back into the pillows, thick neck pulling tight. Darry knows what he's done and continues at his angle, gets enough sense to reach between Wayne's legs and start stroking him. He spreads the sticky gathering of precum with his thumb, tugs Wayne with his own slick. 

"Jesus, Darry," he pants. He must look pert near properly wrecked now and half of him wants to throw an arm over his eyes, burrow into his elbow so Daryl can't see what he's doing to him, but that's rude, he knows, so he tries not to think about it. He focuses instead on the overwhelming pleasure bursting through him, like Darry's reached up inside him and switched all his nerves on. 

"Want ya to shoot for me," Darry says, because he's getting close. He spits into his palm, spreads it over Wayne's cock, which is red and sensitive at this point. 

Wayne whines, pushes Darry's hand away to jerk himself. His lower stomach clenches. It feels like he's going to piss himself, feels like Darry's fucking a hole right through him and into the mattress. His face scrunches up and all the burning electricity bouncing around inside him bursts out in spurts of hot seed. It runs down his own hand, in messy trails over his stomach. 

As he comes, his hole flutters around Darry and he groans, goes, "Oh Christ, oh, Wayne," and hastily pulls himself out, tugging himself to climax onto Wayne's stomach, head drawn back, groaning. 

There's a cooling mess on Wayne's stomach and he's sore from Darry fucking him two ways till Tuesday and he exhales in a pant. "Well," he says. 

Darry says, "Hang tight," and leaves to come back with a wet rag from the bathroom. He wipes Wayne down and it feels like another act of dominance, him lying there passively while Darry cleans him. 

"Get up, put some clean drawers on." 

Wayne groans, scoots over in the bed so Darry can crawl in next to him. "Put the lock on." 

Darry grins, giggling, and locks the bedroom door. "What about the windows?" He sprawls out by Wayne and Wayne pulls a blanket up over the both of them. 

"Someone wants to play peeping Tom that bad, go through all the effort, might as well let 'em." 

Daryl's quiet a moment, then says, "Wayne?" 

"Yes." 

"How was gettin' toe-curled like a sally?" 

Wayne pauses, then answers, "Oh, not s'bad." 

Darry giggles and turns over to look at him in the dark of the room, moon casting in small silver slivers of light. Wayne kisses him. 

"See, told ya you'd like it." 

"That's enough bum talk, Dar." Wayne puts an arm around his shoulders, tries to pull Darry impossibly closer to his side. He yawns. 

"One more thing." 

"Nup." 

"Next time, you can toe-curl me if you'd like." 

Wayne's blood rushes at the suggestion, fired up as a teen on prom night, and his spent cock nearly gives a twitch. There's about a million things Wayne wants to try with Daryl now that he knows the dirt road way isn't as scary as he'd assumed. Plowing Daryl is definitely one. His mind immediately flickers through film reel-like about a dozen scenarios: in the bed, over a hay bale, in the loft, Darry seated on him in the warm glass box of the tractor. 

"Okey," is what Wayne says. 

And he closes his eyes with his sweetie curled up right there next to him

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhh yuh there it is
> 
> thank you for reading! kudos & comments are appreciated greatly
> 
> talk to me on tmblr @ficfucker


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